Adam was miserable. A self imposed misery, but one nonetheless. Time away was supposed to clear his thoughts and allow him to look at the situation objectively, rationalize each word—because even in the heat of the moment there were truths buried under those layers of hurt and anger—and sort through the tangled emotional mess he had wrapped himself up in. He wouldn't have been Adam Parrish if he didn't overcomplicate something simple with his bitter hangups and long history of bad habits and mental walls he had built up. He had told Gansey that he wasn't sure who he was actually mad at Ronan or himself and self-loathing, Adam found, was a much easier punishment to serve.
But Adam kept circling around the same conclusion, the same frustrating realization: he was a goddamn idiot.
There were inherent problems with the situation of Ronan fighting, but the argument was just a culmination of Adam's personal goal of ignoring the deeper problems. Ronan had been right, Adam did need to tell him things sometimes. And he couldn't do that when they were separated, not speaking, and using Gansey as a helpful but unnecessary mediary.
One sleepless night had turned into two, and by the time he finished his shift at Boyd's on Monday night, Adam thought it might just be easier to curl up under his desk in the office. But just as he put his head down into his folded arms, mentally crafting the appropriate text he was going to send to Ronan to start conversation again, his phone buzzed with a single message: Miss you.
Adam, missing him too, wasted no time in texting back: Come to Boyd's?
He pushed himself up, and slipped out back to the junkyard. Adam knew Ronan could be fast when he wanted to be, but Adam would have spent the entirety of the wait staring at the clock and finding every second Ronan wasn't here a reason as to why he wasn't going to come after all. Adam couldn't be that catastrophic already.
Even still, Adam was moving around pieces of scrap from one pile to another, trying to pass the time, until he heard the rattle of the fence opening and closing. He paused for only a second, picking up a rusted-out muffler, then gestured toward one of Toph's various metalbending art projects.
"I had this statue of you staring at me for the last two days every time I came out here. I don't know whether I should thank Toph or ask her to melt it down," Adam said, tossing the part into another pointless pile, turning around in his coveralls, wholly exhausted.
"Did you sleep at all?”
“Think you know the answer to that,” Ronan returned easily, slipping in through the gate to walk closer. There were a lot of ways he could’ve behaved in the last two days. He’d withdrawn rather than his old way of striking out. He’d waited. Patience wasn’t his strong suit though. Patience wasn’t even in his fucking vocabulary most days. But he had been determined at least not to rush Adam into another confrontation.
He could learn patience for Adam.
Well, a little anyway. He’d still needed to reach out. There needed to be no doubt that he wasn’t going anywhere. They’d fought before; they’d fight again. There was still no future Ronan could imagine without Adam. His gaze lingered on Adam now - cautious, loving, nervous as shit - until he made himself look at the statue.
“I’d offer to buy it off you, but I’m pretty sure this thing is priceless,” he deadpanned. He kept his gaze on the statue and his hands in his hoodie pocket. “How did you sleep?”
Tilting his head to the side, Adam studied the statue, considering. "I'm sure Toph could come up with a price tag for you. She's pretty good at haggling." But they weren't here to negotiate money.
Adam slid his attention over to Ronan, realizing they were just enough apart that Adam couldn't reach out and touch him. How did two days feel like two years? Why did this reunion feel more foreign than when Ronan visited him at Harvard? He hated how even a fraction of the distance made him feel, so he shuffled closer, head low, as Ronan asked him how he slept.
"Think you know the answer to that," Adam echoed back with a ghost of a grin. But he remembered Ronan words, the last time they truly spoke, I’m not a fucking mind reader! You have to tell me shit sometimes! And this was the easiest of things to tell.
"Like shit. I slept like shit. And not because I slept on the couch." Adam's hand slipped into Ronan's hoodie pocket to pull his out and flip it palm side up. His fingers ghosted over heart lines and lifelines, wrist to fingertip as if testing to see when Ronan might pull away. "I missed you. Too. I missed you too. It felt better to say that to you in person."
Ronan was going to joke darkly about not getting rid of his face that easily, but then Adam was opening up and touching him, and all shithead thought came to a screeching halt. He closed his eyes for a moment. Some of his tension trickled out through his palm. When he opened his eyes, he inched closer and curled his other hand around Adam’s wrist. The touch was light but grounding. He felt like he was standing on a ledge and he didn’t want Adam to let him go.
“I think I got like an hour last night. I’m way too fucking spoiled sleeping next to you now. It’s gross.” He stared into Adam’s eyes, searching and soft. “I’m glad you wanted to say it in person. I didn’t want to rush you, I know I fucked up. I just wanted you to know I was thinking about you.” He did one of his smoker’s breaths. “I’m always fucking thinking about you, Adam.”
"A whole hour, look at you," Adam teased, lightly, almost fragile. It didn't feel right to fall back into old habits without addressing the bigger problem. But Adam craved that comfort, that easiness he had with Ronan when things were good. And Adam knew that at the end of this conversation, after all the hard and difficult parts were sorted through, they would still be good. It was a heady feeling, to have hope.
But Ronan's gaze was still heavy, and guilt crawled up Adam's throat at Ronan's words. It wasn't right for his boyfriend to shoulder all the blame, even if Adam was a stubborn asshole who had a hard time admitting he was wrong. He quickly brought one of his hands to Ronan's mouth, gentle. "Shh, I know. I know. I couldn't concentrate on anything either. I wanted to know what you were doing or ask Gansey or just stop—" Punishing himself and Ronan by staying apart.
"But I fucked up too. I can't let you think it was all your fault," Adam said, swallowing hard. "I should have said something sooner. I shouldn't have let you go on believing everything was okay. It wasn't, I wasn't, and it's like—it's like I lied to both of us."
The look in Adam’s eyes was a warm comfort. Ronan had felt a startling disconnect during the fight and maybe that had been part of what was so very awful about it all. He still felt off-kilter, but now it felt temporary, like that little swoop in his gut when he stepped off a curb and the drop was a little longer than expected.
He pressed his face towards Adam’s hand at his mouth, not quite kissing it but close enough.
“You should’ve.” That much he wouldn’t budge on. “But when you did tell me, I should’ve been more open to listening and not a defensive jerkwad. I don’t...” Ronan slipped his arms around Adam’s waist and spread his fingers wide against his back, like he was spreading out a net to catch something falling. “I want you to feel like you can tell me shit, even when it’s bad or scary or whatever. If it’s bothering you, it’s bothering me. Even if I’m too fucking dense to know it.”
"Bad timing," Adam said, relenting. Right after fight club? When Ronan was high off adrenaline and Adam had been letting all his terrible feelings fester, angling for an argument because it was easier than handling his emotions in a healthy manner? Yeah, that had been the perfect time to make his boyfriend feel like shit. Adam was glad that Ronan didn't give him space to backpedal on what he should've done.
He shuffled in even closer, pressing his whole self against Ronan. How he had missed the comfort, the safety of his arms around him. Adam was so stupid for Ronan that it was ridiculous; he couldn't put it adequately into words. He pressed his forehead into Ronan's collar bone, softly needy and affectionate.
"It's not that I couldn't tell you things. I can, I do. I try," Adam corrected. "I don't want it to bother you. I don't want it to bother me. It's just seeing you in the ring, getting hit, it doesn't stop with the—" Adam's stomach churned with the memories he had struggled to compartmentalize. His throat dried up. Ronan wasn't dense for not realizing it. Adam was so good with all the other things that acted as a reminder, how was his boyfriend supposed to know this one would do it?
"I wasn't ready for it yet. As much as I don't want this to dictate my life, it shouldn't dictate yours either. That's not a choice I want to take away from you."
Ronan enveloped Adam more tightly in his arms and pressed his cheek to the top of Adam’s head. He was good at this part these days. At least he liked to think so. His words might still be shit half the time, but this he could do. He didn’t question if he was holding Adam too tight; Adam Parrish wasn’t fucking fragile. Damaged, sure, but which one of them wasn’t?
“I wish it didn’t bother you either but you’re fucking human. Sucks I know, but that’s kinda how we work.” His tone was mildly teasing but still unquestionably serious. “And anyway, the club, fighting in a ring or whatever. I don’t need it. I need you to feel safe.” He pulled back to press Adam’s face between his hands, icy eyes intense and unyielding. “And I need you to trust that we’re a fucking team. Needing me to change something to stop hurting you doesn’t mean you’re taking a choice away from me. Anything that hurts you isn’t a choice I want.”
He loved and hated when Ronan did this, making it impossible to look away. Despite all his defiance, it was Ronan's intensity that could bring him to his knees, and right now, with his face held in his hands, unable to do anything but listen, Adam's whole body felt weak. He reached up to wrap his fingers around Ronan's wrists—not to pull him away but for grounding, to cling to something solid.
Adam closed his eyes and nodded. "We are a team. It's just that sometimes I don't know it's hurting me," Adam said, but it sounded like he was lying. He wasn't completely oblivious to his internal problems.
"Or sometimes I do, but it's not that bad. And I think I can get through this until I can't." He hated how vulnerable he sounded, how he was admitting to parts of him that weren't as strong as the rest of him. But Adam knew Ronan was probably the only person he could be completely open with about his shortcomings.
"It shouldn't be all on you to do things to help me. I can also help myself." It sounded stubborn, it sounded like he was taking all the blame, and Adam knew Ronan wouldn't let him. A team, they shared responsibility. He added, "But I will be better about voicing the things I need from you. I know it's not as obvious as it is to me, and it's unfair to get angry at you for not knowing." He squeezed Ronan’s wrists, apologetic. "I'm sorry, for a lot of it. I said things that—I don't think you're a violent asshole."
Ronan gave him a knowing look as the direction of his explanation changed. If anybody was aware of Adam’s stubborn refusal to admit his weaknesses, it was Ronan. Well, and Gansey. The difference tended to be that Ronan was more likely to wait and let Adam decide what he needed. That had bitten him on the ass a bit here, but he still trusted Adam to let him where he needed to be let in. Now maybe it would just happen sooner.
“It’s not all or nothing, dumbass,” he said fondly, lifting his held wrists to press a kiss to Adam’s knuckles. “It’s not option one, help yourself, option two, have us do everything for you. I know you know that shit now though so I’ll take that promise and hold you to it.” He scooted closer and pressed his face into Adam's shoulder for a moment, his apology coming out muffled but forceful.
“I’m sorry too. Bringing up your dad...was shitty. That was just...my own baggage making me talk out of my ass,” Ronan mumbled.
"So, I go with option three, then? Make a mess of combining the two until I find the balance for every issue that comes up?" Adam asked, not unkindly, rhetorical; he knew the answer. It sounded complicated but he could do it. He had Ronan kissing his knuckles, slotting in closer, to say it was okay, okay, okay and it was. Adam was overwhelmed with love, and wrapped his arms around Ronan's shoulders, trying to get as close as possible.
"It happened. It just did. And there's no rewinding time to take it back. All this proves is that we know each other too well and say the stupidest shit," Adam said, but like it was a good thing. Adam was no longer strong-arming his unknowable self onto other people. It was not a point of pride or a foundational truth. Ronan was evidence of that.
Adam made his embrace tighter, bracing himself, as he spoke. "Sometimes all the fighting gets messed up in my brain, like it overlaps because of the action, not the person and it takes some time to separate it. But—" Adam lifted Ronan's face from his shoulder and placed his lips against the corner of Ronan's mouth as he whispered, "I don't think you're like him. I never have."
“Sounds good to me. Messes are underrated,” Ronan mumbled. Everyone he loved was kind of a mess, after all. He stayed quiet for the rest, content to curl into Adam’s body and appreciate being close after two days of stress and silence. His eyebrows furrowing was his first reaction to being pulled out from his comfy spot, but his focus was still laser sharp.
He couldn’t hide the relief at Adam’s words; it was painted across his face and in the sag of his shoulders, the way he kept his mouth pressed to Adam’s and got his fingers into Adam’s shirt.
“Good.” The word sounded half-chewed the way it hit the air. Ronan cleared his throat and pulled back. “I can handle you being mad at me. Half the time I’m trying to rile you up on purpose,” he admitted with the ghost of a shithead smirk. “But... the thought of you being afraid of me really fucked me up.” He dropped his gaze and frowned. “I’m not trying to make this shit about me, for the record, I just...This is gonna sound fucking cheesy, but I want to be the home you run to, not the one you run away from.”
Knowing how harmful his words could be was never something Adam could stomach later, especially when Ronan was saying things like it really fucked me up. There was a dark expression that crossed Adam's face briefly, the words straining to come out—the self-loathing, the unworthiness, that voice that said he didn't deserve Ronan or a place to call home, or the two wrapped together—but Adam wasn't that person anymore. He didn't want to be either.
He ran his hands over Ronan's sagging shoulders, along the sides of his neck, trying to convey how much he was needed. "I like cheesy," Adam said, his voice soft but rough, emotion kicking him in the throat. Honest, he had to be honest, and Ronan was the safe space that wouldn't judge him for it.
"I regretted it, walking away from you. Everything after that didn't feel right, every decision I made was wrong because you weren't there. And I kept telling myself that I had to, it felt wrong because I had to stay away, this was how it was supposed to be. And that was stupid, so fucking stupid." He was gathering Ronan up in his arms again, clinging to home so tightly.
"Even when I'm angry, and we fight, part of me knows you're too good for me, and that scares me."
Adam’s self-esteem issues weren’t a secret any more than the reason he had them was a secret. Ronan made a noise that was like a quiet growl through his clenched teeth but his body stayed relaxed and pliant in Adam’s arms.
“I’m glad you figured out that was fucking stupid.” His expression softened and he took Adam’s face in his hands and brushed his thumbs over Adam’s cheeks. “You’re so goddamn hard on yourself.” He pressed forward, arms going around Adam’s shoulders so he could press as close as possible and rest his mouth against Adam’s good ear. “It doesn’t get better than you, Adam. Not even on your worst day. Not even when you yank really hard on the covers and leave to freeze. Not even when I have to pry you out of a textbook and you’re a grumpy bitch about it.”
He unintentionally started to move them in a circle, swaying. “I love you,” he whispered fiercely.
There was something so profoundly intimate with Ronan's mouth against his ear, whispering the words it doesn't get better than you; sound and sensation were heightened to almost overstimulation, and it made Adam turn his head just slightly toward Ronan.
He nosed tenderly at his jaw, coaxing a negligible space between their mouths. Just enough for Adam to search Ronan's face, his own expression lighting up as he said back, equally as fierce, "I love you, so much."
And then he closed in, kissing Ronan. It was a wild and desperate sort of kiss, the kind that happened when Adam had too many feelings and not enough words, a little uncoordinated but painfully earnest. As someone who spent his whole life hungry for touch, Adam still was messy in his execution. Eventually, the kiss smoothed out into something softer, but no less heated as if he finally figured it out.
He looked a little dazed and glassy-eyed when he finally pulled away, taking a deep breath to calm his racing heart. "You have to put all of that in your vows," Adam said, a call back to Ronan's own words from the other day. He continued to sway with him in the junkyard, leaning heavily into Ronan's body. The exhaustion of the last two days catching up. "Especially the grumpy bitch part."
Ronan dove into the kiss, just as greedy. Two days was nothing in comparison to the time they spent away while Adam was at Harvard, but these two days had felt like the shitty days after the crab disaster times ten. Like they were a hundred miles apart. He made a small sound that was embarrassingly close to a whine when Adam drew back.
“Done. Oh man, I can’t wait to see Gansey and Sargent’s faces. If she jumps up at the objection part, I’m gonna tell her it’s your fault.” His laugh was a little breathy and giddy. He smothered it in the side of Adam’s neck where he pressed kisses to his skin. There was probably more to say. More careful things to plan out so this never happened again. But Ronan could hear the fatigue in Adam’s voice and he felt it in his own bones too. “Do you have shit you need to do here or can we go home now?”
A lightness came over Adam, relief in the way Ronan laughed, all the pieces slowly falling back into place after days of mental chaos. Adam was smiling and laughing too, and his face hurt with it. Everything felt right with Ronan in his arms. They were two pieces of a whole, tamquam alter idem, each other's second self. It wasn't supposed to be any other way.
"Nothing that can't wait until tomorrow," Adam answered, his hand cupping the back of Ronan's head, holding him close for another moment longer. "Take me home, Ronan."